I wanted?—
No.
I knewexactlywhat I wanted.
I reached for his wrist.
His lips parted.
“Bože.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” The answer came far too quickly. Again.
Despite my racing heartbeat, I smiled.
“Didn’t sound like nothing.” I rubbed my thumb over the inside of his wrist.
He closed his eyes for a moment, but when they opened again, whatever composure he’d carried into the room was beginning to unravel.
“Kvrat.”
I might not have known the meaning, but I knew the tone.
I tightened my fingers around his wrist, and his pulse grew wilder.
So did mine.
“Tell me to stop.”
I meant it.
If he wanted distance, I’d give it to him.
If he wanted me gone, I’d step back.
Luka held my gaze.
There was no hesitation in him now, only that steady look I’d been trying to understand since the day we met.
I lifted my hand to his face, moving carefully, giving him every opportunity to change his mind.
He didn’t, and I was past fighting this. I traced the line of his cheekbone with my thumb, unable to miss the hitch in his breathing, the way his eyes widened.
And still he didn’t stop me.
So I kissed him.
His lips parted against mine almost immediately, and suddenly all those careful distances we’d been maintaining for days meant absolutely nothing.
Luka caught my wrist hard enough to stop me from pulling away, even though I hadn’t even considered doing that. For the first time since we’d met, he was meeting me halfway, and the feeling of that grip went through me like an electric shock.
I made a rough sound against his mouth before I could stop it, and he smiled.
Then the kiss deepened.
Neither of us seemed particularly concerned with doing it well.
